


Silent Nights

by Questions3



Series: "All Original Master Pieces of Shit" - MSI [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepy, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhat twisted evolution of trendy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: some of this shit may turn your stomach a touch. So if you think you're gonna be a little queazy I'd avoid.

             _You’ve gotta check this out!_ The lavender text that depicted her little sister, Gaga, flashed across her retina as she walked through the city foot traffic. Being a responsible adult and in no way interested in getting yet another ticket for ‘Walking and I-Ting' Cacophony moved onto the clogged and slowly propelled walk. As the automated system moved her into the mass of commuters she took a swig from her Java Juice (it was coming up on the Christmas season and she was taking full advantage of their peppermint java extract while it lasted). She barely acknowledged the archaic Christian melodies being streamed through the tunnel with a slight right eye roll that raised the volume of her personal stream as her left eye trailed to the link in the message and blinked for confirmation of assent to play. A vid of a black and white creature ran around as a scrambled but still clearly effeminate voice came through telling her just how much of a shit was not being given by the fluffy creature. Cacophony shook her head in amused fondness. Gaga had an affliction right now where she thought anything from the twenty first century was brilliant, the adolescent movement was called Stainless and was depicted by an inordinate amount of steel jewelry and metallic colored paints. Gaga wasn’t ready for the day without her array of steel rings, false feather pendants and that cheap glittering metal eye cream and lip oil. She’d convinced their maternal unit to let her dye her hair an obscenely garish mahogany color that seemed to clash something fierce with her blue tincture, but she was only fourteen and still finding out what suited her.

            Taking a moment to read through the stats on an ad that was flashing about the new upgrade to the I-Tact (apparently the newest innovation was planning a connection directly to the speech centers of the brain, allowing for seamless transcription that got rid of the mouthing and air typing of the earlier generations) she responded to her sister’s vid. _That was ridiculous. Where’d you dig this up? That Stain archive you and your friends keep crashing?_ She raised her brow and inserted her disbelieving emoticon before the red text flew off to her sister’s I-Tact. As she awaited the reply she took a moment to check her communications. As the left eye scanned the correspondence, one blink to delete two to save, the right was scanning her surroundings, though it wasn’t really taking anything in. In front of her was a small tourist family in their brown travel clothes, the yellow sashes depicting them as in country visitors. The youngest boy, about eight she’d guess, with a blue skin tint was looking up at her through a fringe of deep green curls and with a blue eye and a lime green I-Tact. The implant was sending off a faint glow indicating he was simultaneously watching a vid as they trailed through the tunnel. His sister was slouched against the tubing as her own chartreuse I-Tact scanned her own correspondence, her right eye, just as blue as her brother’s though her hair was a hazel array and skin peachy, was rolling as her maternal unit chatted to the children. The older woman with the same hazel hair and blue eyes mouth moved soundlessly as she conversed with her family. Her old school I-Tact was clear against her own eye, it wasn’t an implant like her children, but a thin shield that lay over her pupil. They weren’t as popular anymore, too much room for misinterpretation with something that wasn’t flush with the system. Most were going for the newer directly linked implant, but they were far less invasive and didn’t require the out patient surgery. They were also cheaper which was why Cacophony had opted for the same, her's a red tint that lightened her dark brown eyes to something almost maroon. The paternal unit was just looking at the buildings and structures as they passed, left eye scanning and reading the factoids he was looking up, right eye closed as he half dosed on the way to their temporary quarters.

            The lavender text was back as Cacophony swiveled her eye to bring the hazy screen to the forefront of her perception. _It’s called Utube, and you’d really like some of the stuff you’d find on those boards. They mesh real well with your out of date I-Tact and last century’s attitude download. Not to mention that weird screeching you’re constantly streaming and that hair color._

No one appreciated the classics anymore. _That screeching is your namesake I’ll have you know. Poker Face is even from your Stain age._ She refused to touch the hair thing again. They’d had that argument too often. It just so happened Cacophony liked the color she’d been genetically engineered with. The white was sleek and bright under the dayglo

            _*-$# elder sibling unit. Stop the space, money is a number. I’ll commune with you later!_ With that the message board zoomed out into the middle space with the rest of her inactive ‘windows’. Each window depicted a conversation she was having, a memo she was compiling, or a topic she was researching for her classes at the U. The ‘windows’ were transparent, allowing her visual access to everything around her out of her left eye, but she was just as easily allowed to focus on the closer board as she walked. There had been new laws passed to stop individuals from driving or walking while engaging in conversation, however, as they often led to collisions. In this congested city and others like it that tended to be rather dangerous, especially for the ambling elderly. Cacophony had already been marked twice for her own inattention while walking. She wouldn’t normally mind the necessity to use the moving walkway but she wasn’t all that inclined to share that much space with the people who were keeping to her speed never mind those who were merely lazing or rubbernecking like the tourists in front of her as they sped at an agonizing five miles an hour. Not to mention the constant spam she was barraged with in the open air. The walkway was public air, which meant foreign adverts and music were allowed to stream into her I-Tact. They were annoying and had a tendency to overload her out of date model, causing the cover to slow down, which was annoying, and over heat, which was uncomfortable as it dried out her cornea (this was the eighth or ninth gen and the company had worked out the issues the earlier units had had of burning it).

            The walkways did, however, make it easier to hurriedly make her way to class while she typed up her late assignments. Where the conversation with her sister could be accomplished with the I-Tact’s muscle recognition as Cacophony moved her lips in the talking motions, the sensory units in it highly selective, there was also the option to physically type her messages. Her fingers had a thin layer of transmitting enamel on the nails that allowed those same sensory units to recognize her finger motions. She was of a generation that had grown up using the technology and could type with her hands firmly on either side of her body, or even when making her own hand gestures as she conversed. Watching her parents, however, was always a riot. Her maternal unit would always get so over heated when she chuckled as the older woman placed her hands in front of her and tapped away at the invisible keyboard. It was cute.

            Cacophony thought about the new upgrade as she exited the walk and she picked up her clip, making her way to her temp job with the Vault on the fifth level off of the eightieth center and twelfth lane (she was chief assistant to the Vault’s vice, mainly in charge of compiling the days transfers from the pool of accountants. They were the largest treasury in the city and she was hoping it would be a good jumping off point after she finished her degree). If she knew her sister she’d be begging their parentals for it as soon as she got home from institute. For someone part of a movement that prided themselves in their concern and interest for the past they were highly progressive.

            She walked through the screen of the eightieth center, shivering slightly as the current disengaged then reengaged her systems, checking for any tampering or unauthorized personnel. _Hey Snow White!_ Ran across her vision. Not a message but a salutation from the desk supervisor where she sat in front of the transparent screens that she checked the staff of the entire building in and out of as they entered for shifts or left for breaks. The secretarial staff of the entire nation had instantly been upgraded to the previous I-Tact, seeing as it made them far more efficient as it allowed them to plug into the systems that governed the centers physically. Camelot had taken to it like a newborn, she could check in fifty employees, register a hundred visitors, direct thirty new clients, eat, and chat with Cacophony all in the same blink. If they implanted the newest version into her friend she would become the scariest woman in all of C-city with her black enameled body toner and her shockwave yellow Mohawk.

            Turning to take a minute and chat with her friend the young student smiled as the secretary opened her green tinged mouth. _Well hello there Lancelot! And how are you and Camy doing today?_

            With a cheeky grin, left yellow eye blinking and spinning in the socket, the right brown eye turned to look at the rather plain little college student. Camy liked Cacophony because she didn’t give into all the hype that most of her age group fed. The girl was average height, had a Tuscan shade of tan going on and was rockin’ her shocking white hair color. Most, like Camy herself, chose their skin and hair color to stand out and show off their status. Camy had chosen a deep black with reflective enamel and a shock of yellow when she’d been given her raise last year. Not the most expensive thing on the market, but it suited the older woman and her penchant for the dramatic. Cacophony didn’t feed into that shit either, she chose what suited her, and the upkeep a skin dying and hair coloring would take didn’t suit the scruffy student, she was far more interested in her work and schooling, choosing to spend her limited funds on tutorial vids or those ancient ass paper tombs she was always hunting up. The raw talent had been practically beaming last month when she’d came in and told Camy about some reproduction of some ancient etching she’d finally nailed down, Twylight something or other. Even if she didn’t understand the preference for the things she could appreciate the steel it took to be as comfy in one's original skin and bland jumper. _Lance is great, isn’t that right boy? He’s been fussing a bit recently but I changed his diet and he’s back to his usual cheery self._

As she spoke, lips moving silently as the words were relayed to the other’s I-Tact, Cacophony could spy the fluffy spindled creature inside her friend’s mouth. Lancelot was an odd little hybrid that some lab had come up with that combined a _Cymothoa exigua_ and a kind of dwarf rabbit. It was fluffy and brown with big shiny black eyes as he stared out of his little home. As Camy moved her hand up to deliver a round piece of orange carrot compote, six fluffy legs began to reach out and dance for his lunch. As he gnawed on the treat with his tiny grinding teeth the pair cooed over the cute critter. When the creatures had initially been released to market Cacophony had been rather hesitant over the hygiene issues it would surely cause, but they had been set to rest with further research. The tiny creature was actually sutured in place of the tongue of the host. It’s waist removal was taken care of naturally by the body’s own natural resources and, honestly, Cacophony found Lancelot cuter and far less annoying than the nasty little yipping microdogs, marketed as Pocket Puppies, that most women had been running around within their purses. She was also happier knowing the louse weren’t experiencing any genetic induced diseases like the dogs were. The tiny creatures had been getting smaller and smaller since the early 21st century and now were too tiny for their lungs to function properly. Most had a life expectancy of less than three years as the finger length bodies wore out trying to sustain life.

            With a pellet of celery for the tiny parasite and a cheery good bye, with plans for lunch, Cacophony made her way to the lift that would deposit her on the fifth level and her desk in the sea of temps. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a legit bug.
> 
> [Cymothoa exigua](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cymothoa_exigua)


End file.
